A Year To Remember
by MadScientistGirl
Summary: This is my take on how Jack and Doug got together. Ch 8&9 are meant to be read as a single chapter. Doug is bothered by some disturbing dreams and comes to a startling realization.
1. First Day of School

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, don't sue

Time Frame: Begins 9 months before the series finale

Even though it was early September, Doug could still sense a change in the air. Already the weather was slightly chilly, and soon the trees would begin to burst into the flame colors of fall. Labor Day had passed, taking with it the sunbathers on the beaches and the wealthy crowd who inhabited the summer houses along the shore. Many people enjoyed the noise and activity that accompanied the summer crowd, with the parties and people hanging out along the boardwalk, but Doug had always enjoyed when the crowds left, leaving the beaches nearly deserted and life returned to a more leisurely pace. As a kid, fall had also meant the start of a new school year, filled with new possibilities. At 34 years of age, it had been many years since he had attended school, but the feeling of anticipation still remained. Something was about to change, and it wasn't just the weather.

Doug laughed at the fanciful turn his thoughts had taken. Given the previous few years of his life, drastic change seemed unlikely. He had been a member of the Capeside Sheriff's department for the last twelve years, and even being elected Sheriff when his father had retired hadn't really changed much, other than he seemed to work longer hours and do more paperwork than ever before. Besides, there was no reason to change anything. He enjoyed the routine of his life: jog along the beach after work, evening spent on the couch watching a movie (preferably from the "classic" section of ScreenPlay Video) or dinner at the Icehouse if he didn't feel like cooking for himself. The routine of his life was comforting in the same way that the antique books lined up with military precision on his fireplace mantle were comforting. So what if his brother claimed that his life was "mind-numbingly boring" and his apartment "looked more like a museum than a home". Of course, Pacey's comments had become less frequent upon the opening of the Icehouse, when Pacey had become a bit of a workaholic himself. It always amazed Doug to realize that his juvenile delinquent little brother had turned into a responsible business owner, in addition to becoming Doug's friend.

It was the first day of school for Capeside High, and in what had become an annual tradition, Doug was parked behind a tree, waiting to hand out tickets to tardy students who exceeded the speed limit in an effort to make it to homeroom on time. He typically issued three to four citations on the first day of class, with last year being the all time high of six in a single hour.

He had only been in place for a few minutes when he was passed by a red convertible zipping by with the top down and music blaring. He checked the radar gun: 46 MPH. As he turned on his lights and pulled out behind the car he noticed that it had New York plates, which was unusual since the only thing of any importance down this stretch of road was the high school. Almost immediately, the driver slowed and pulled over onto the shoulder. As he sauntered up to the driver's side door with his right hand at his belt, inches away from his sidearm, the driver reached over to turn off the music.

"Are you aware that you doing over 45 in an 25 mile per hour zone?" he asked in a voice guaranteed to scare the hell out of any traffic offender unlucky to be pulled over by the Sheriff.

The occupant of the convertible was no exception. "I'm sorry, officer. I was just on my way to class." He squinted up at the man standing above him.

Doug watched as the man in the car reached up to remove his sunglasses, revealing a pair of green eyes. It was in that moment that the world seemed to tilt slightly, yet the stranger in the car continued to talk as if nothing had happened. Doug reached out a hand to steady himself against the doorframe, his heart pounding as if he had just run a mile. When the driver's lips stopped moving, Doug realized he hadn't heard a word the man had just said.

"Aren't you a little old for high school?" he asked, latching onto the first thought that popped into his suddenly empty brain.

"I'm the new English teacher," the man patiently explained, shooting Doug a strange look. "Deputy Doug, are you OK?"

"Sheriff Doug" he automatically corrected, mentally cringing at how abrupt his words sounded. "Good going," he thought, "not only does this guy think I'm a moron, but now he thinks I am an asshole." Suddenly his thoughts seemed to be racing through his mind at lightning speeds. "Wait…did he say Deputy Doug?" He took a closer look at the man in the car, and all of a sudden, he thought of his brother's eighteenth birthday.

"Jack McPhee?" he asked, making the connection between the stunningly handsome man in the car with the kid he had last seen seven years ago.

"Yeah… who would have imagined I would be back teaching at Capeside High?"

Doug shook his head in amazement. All at once, Doug wanted this whole embarrassing encounter to be finished. He summoned up the professional manner that usually came so naturally to him. "Mr. McPhee, I'm not going to issue you a citation today, but I will not be so lenient in the future. Slow down, OK?"

Jack looked up with a relieved smile. "You've got it. Can I go now?" After Doug nodded, Jack put the convertible in gear and pulled away from the side of the road. When he glanced back in his rear view mirror, he could still see Doug still standing there, watching him drive off.

Doug ran a distracted hand through his hair. What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn't felt this rattled since his first traffic stop as a rookie officer. It must have been the shock of seeing Jack McPhee after all these years. He was the same age as Pacey, which would make him 24 or 25, yet because Doug hadn't seen him since he was eighteen, it was a bit of a shock to realize that Jack was now an adult.

It was a perfectly logical explanation, except for one small, but very important detail. In his effort to rationalize the events of the last few minutes, Doug had somehow managed to forget that his discomfiture had occurred long before he realized the identity of the man in the convertible.

Satisfied with his mental rationalization, Doug returned to the patrol vehicle, ready to hand out speeding tickets to the students of Capeside High.

Authors Note: I want to apologize for how long that this has taken me to post this story, after I promised it quite a while back to the readers of my story Election Day. I have since moved across the country and was distracted by another writing project. I also fell into the trap of rewriting this chapter several times.

OK, now I need your opinion. Did I accomplish my goal of letting us, the readers, know that Doug has fallen for Jack, while Doug has absolutely no clue?


	2. After School

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter one. Your comments mean so much to me. I hope you like chapter 2, and please read and review!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Don't sue.

Chapter 2: After school

It was after 4 PM when Jack flopped down on a barstool at the Icehouse. "I hate the first day of school."

Pacey looked up from the bottles he was inventorying. "That good, huh? I thought it was only students that hated school."

"I spent the entire day doing everything but teaching. The new computer system fouled up all of the rosters, so most of my gradesheets were completely wrong. Then there were all of the students who suddenly realized that they have class conflicts and now have to change classes. As if they didn't know their schedules all summer! Checking out books, going over the course expectations. By the time I was done with all of that crap, there was only five minutes left in the class period. I didn't even bother trying to teach them anything. Oh – and on top of all that, your brother pulled me over for speeding, and guess what room classroom I've been assigned?"

Suddenly Jack realized how long and whiny his diatribe had been. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go on forever."

Pacey grimaced. "Don't worry, I guess school's all a bunch of bullshit, even for the teachers. So what's wrong with your classroom?"

"I've been given Peterson's old room. Just being in there gives me the creeps. Suddenly I feel like I am fifteen again, having to stand up and read my poem in front of everyone."

"Definitely not one of our better moments in high school," replied Pacey, cringing at the memory. "Maybe a ritual cleansing would drive the evil spirit of Mr. Peterson away," he suggested. When he saw Jack's answering grin, he felt it was safe to ask about the other thing on Jack's list of grievances. "So Douggie gave you a ticket? Just how fast were you going?"

Jack had the grace to look slightly ashamed. "45 in a 25 zone." He paused for a minute, thinking about his encounter with the Sheriff. "Actually, he didn't give me a ticket. He only scared the crap out me and gave me a warning."

"Are you sure it was Doug? I mean, my brother kinda has a tradition of breaking his record for tickets on the first day of school each year," said Pacey, completely stunned that his brother hadn't issued Jack a ticket.

"'Sheriff Doug' he told me." Jack thought about the strange encounter of that morning. "He seemed a little distracted," he explained, trying to put into words the weird vibe had picked up. "He seemed a bit rattled, and then all of a sudden, he just let me go with a warning."

Pacey mulled over the information, trying to imagine his brother loosing his composure while on the job. That sort of thing usually only happened when Pacey shot off his smart mouth. They sat there for a few minutes considering the import of Jack's news, before Jack asked, "by the way, when did your brother become Sheriff?"

"Two years ago my Dad retired because of his health, and Doug ran for election his place. Youngest Sheriff in Capeside history," Pacey explained, proudly. "I'm just glad that my father was still alive to see Doug elected. He was so proud that I thought he would burst."

Jack remembered all of the times back in high school when Pacey had felt second best when compared to his older brother. "And I'm sure your father was proud of you, opening up the Icehouse and making it a success."

"Yeah. One of the best days of my life was when he offered to be one of the co-signers on the business loan to get this place going, along with my brother who also invested in it." Pacey smiled at the memory. "Speaking of family – how about yours?"

"Well, as you know, Andie's in her last year of medical school. I'm not sure she gets any sleep, but I can tell she loves it. She was dating another med student, but it turned out he couldn't handle it when his girlfriend was smarter and better at everything than he was. My dad is currently based in London, but he usually calls at least one a week. He's been really great this last month. He knew I had to get out of New York and when the job in Capeside opened up two weeks ago, he really encouraged me to take it. He was the one who arranged to have all of my stuff put in storage until I could find a place here."

From his previous conversations with Jack, Pacey knew that any discussion of why he had left New York was strictly off-limits. "Everything is in storage?" he asked instead.

"I only took what I could fit in my car and drove down. Thank God the teacher that quit at the last moment was willing to sublet his furnished apartment for two months. It will give me some time to find a decent place."

"Isn't there stuff you'll miss?" asked Pacey, once again surprised at the drastic nature of Jack's departure from his life in New York.

"Right now I just need a clean break from everything, a fresh start," Jack replied, and from the tone of his voice, Pacey knew it was time to change the subject.

"How are Jen and Grams?" he asked quickly.

"Great! It's been three years since Gram's last treatment, and she's been doing great. She is a little bit more frail than before, but just as strong willed as ever. Every six months she goes in for more tests and things get tense for a few days, but so far everything has been fine. Jen's baby is due in January, and she keeps complaining about being fat, but she looks amazing. I just wish she would believe me when I tell her that! I wish I could find that jerk of an ex-boyfriend of hers and beat the crap out of him."

Pacey nodded in sympathy. "I heard the story. Let me know if you find him, because I'd love to take a swing at him myself."

Jack nodded, and began studying a menu as Pacey walked off to greet a customer who had just walked into the restaurant.


	3. Making Plans

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, don't sue

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story. I really appreciate your comments. To Sam Cdn: You'll have to wait a bit. Jack isn't ready to talk about why he left New York, but soon…

Dedication: to my best friend, ML, who is always willing to read my stories. Without her, Doug would have discovered a can of mouse in his bathroom. Mental image of Mickey Mouse in a can…. ich!

Chapter 3: Making Plans

2 weeks later

It was just after 4 PM, and Doug was sitting in one of the booths of the Ice House, enjoying a very late lunch. He had spent most of the day searching for a toddler that had gotten separated from her parents. He had finally located her, curled up asleep in the maintenance shed of the hotel where the family was staying. As a result, he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

Sitting across from him in the booth was Pacey, who was grabbing a quick bite to eat before the Friday evening rush. As a result, neither man was saying much, both intent on their food, and they were both surprised when Jack slid into the empty place next to Doug.

It was obvious that Jack was upset, and Pacey immediately asked, "What's wrong? I thought everything was going great at school."

"It was. I was called into the principal's office this afternoon." Jack replied ominously.

"I thought that sort of thing was reserved for juvenile delinquent kids like me," joked Pacey, trying to lighten the mood.

Jack attempted a smile before replying, "It seems as if the mother of one of my students was concerned about me being her son's teacher. Why is it that people assume that just because I'm gay that I am incapable of keeping my hands to myself?" he asked angrily.

Pacey was aghast. "It's amazing how ignorant people can be. I can't believe that Principle Hollingsworth didn't back you up. She knew you were gay when she hired you, given that she was the German teacher back when we were in high school and you were the only gay kid at Capeside."

Pacey was drawing a breath to continue his tirade when Jack interrupted him. "She did back me up. After about an hour, she finally got the mother to calm down and agree that her son should remain in my class. I guess it just makes me mad that even now, I still have to deal with this bullshit. I guess things will never change."

"I guess there will always be a few ignorant people left in this world, but things have changed, Jack. The fact is, Hollinsworth did stand up for you, when just a few years ago, you probably would have been fired for being gay."

At Pacey's words, Jack began to relax a fraction. "Thanks, Pace. I guess I needed to hear that." Jack smiled. "I didn't come over to rehash this afternoon. After such a crappy day, I just want to get drunk and maybe play a little pool. How about it Pace? Want to join me?"

Pacey sighed. "Sounds like fun, but one of my cooks quit with no warning, so there is no way I can get away from the restaurant tonight." He was silent for a moment, before he had a brilliant idea. "I know! Doug could go with you."

The both turned to Doug, who had been eating his meal quietly, politely trying to ignore the conversation between Pacey and Jack. At Pacey's impetuous words, the expression on Doug's face resembled that of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth for a second, before he mumbled, "I don't think so" and resumed eating.

"Oh come on! It's not as if you have anything exciting to do tonight. You never do anything but work or hang out around here," Pacey tried to convince his brother.

Jack had been surprised by Pacey's suggestion, but suddenly it seemed very important that Doug join him. Maybe it had been the flash of sadness he had glimpsed in Doug's eyes, before the expression had been replaced with the calm demeanor that was so characteristic of Pacey's older brother. "Please. I hate to drink alone. You would be doing me a favor."

Doug tried to come up with an excuse, convinced that Jack would rather go drinking with anyone other than him, someone who was practically a complete stranger. "How would it look, the town sheriff getting drunk? Even worse, getting pulled over for drunk driving by one of my own deputies." The excuse sounded lame, even to his own ears, but Jack was not to be deterred.

"Everyone should be allowed to cut loose occasionally, even the sheriff. If you would like, you can sleep on my couch tonight if you are too smashed to drive home. It's quite comfortable." Jack could be very persuasive when he put his mind to it. "Come on Doug. Please?"

Finally, Doug was convinced that Jack was telling the truth, and not just asking because Pacey had practically forced him to issue the invitation. "All right. Sounds like fun. What time should we meet up?" he asked.

Jack thought a minute before answering, "How about meeting at my place around eight? O'Mally's is less than a block down the street, so we can walk from there." When Doug nodded, he stood up to leave. "See you later, then," he said, and turned to exit the restaurant.

After he had left, Doug turned to Pacey, "I do stuff other than work or hang out here!"

Pacey decided that it was best not to reply, instead choosing to finish his meal in silence. As he was getting up to go back to work, he decided that it was time to have a little fun at his brother's expense. "Is that what you are wearing tonight?" he asked. "While that FAB-ulous outfit may attract guys by the truckload, it isn't exactly bar hopping material – at least the kind of bars found here in Capeside."

"Someday, Pacey, you might actually consider accepting the fact that I'm straight." There was no real anger behind Doug's words; this conversation had been replayed in so many various forms over the years that the response was almost automatic.

"Sure, Doug, whatever you say," Pacey replied, but Doug was not really listening.

He was looking down at the clothes he was wearing as if he had never seen them before in his life. When had he begun dressing like some boring accountant on casual Friday? The dress shirt and pleated khakis he was wearing were more appropriate for some banker, rather than clothes for relaxing at the end of his shift. Doug considered himself to be a fairly laid back guy, but maybe he really was as uptight and boring as Pacey always said. How had this happened? When had he become this person that was so different from how he had always pictured himself? Suddenly, a night of drinking and cutting loose seemed just the right prescription for getting out of the dull rut he seemed to have fallen into. He smiled with anticipation, and then just as suddenly, he frowned. What the hell was he going to wear tonight?

At eight PM, Doug knocked on the door of Jack's apartment, trying to ignore the nervous flutter of excitement in his stomach. He tried to act nonchalant, but he still felt flustered after almost being late. The last two hours had been an agony of indecision. First off had been deciding what to wear. He had tried and discarded several outfits before deciding on his favorite jeans (worn enough that they were comfortable, but not so old that they were baggy) and a Capeside sheriffs department t-shirt (black, a neutral color but tight enough that it didn't look sloppy and made his shoulders look bigger). Over that he had on a black shirt. After being finally satisfied with his clothes, he had taken a quick shower and dried his hair, which then presented another problem. He looked in the medicine cabinet. Too many choices: two different kinds of hair gel, and even a can of mousse that had obviously gotten pushed to the back and lost sometime during the early nineties. He threw the can into the trash. A third possibility: nothing at all. Would hair gel look like he was trying too hard? In disgust, he closed the medicine cabinet door and walked out of the house with his hair completely product-free. What the hell was wrong with him? You'd think he never did something with a friend before.

As he was waiting for Jack to answer the door, he unconsciously ran a hand through his hair, betraying his nervousness with that gesture, and causing his hair to become slightly rumpled in the process.


	4. Boys Night Out

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Don's sue

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story. I really appreciate all of your comments. I want to apologize for taking so long to update this story. My only excuse is a hurricane named Wilma made everything a bit crazy at the end of last year. I hope to do better in the future.

Chapter 4: Boys Night Out

When Jack heard the knock on the door, he grabbed his jacket off of the chair and opened the door. "Hey Doug. Ready to go?"

"Let the games begin," Doug replied, and they set off down the street toward O'Malley's. When they got there, they found two places at the bar, and very soon had two tall glasses of Sam Adams in front of them. Jack was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Doug about a variety of things. He found out that Doug had played baseball in high school, and he talked about playing football for Capeside High. From there, they somehow transitioned into talking about their jobs and their different experiences dealing with teenagers.

Later that evening, Jack realized that he was really enjoying himself. When he had proposed going out and getting drunk, he had expected that most of the evening would be about drowning his frustrations in alcohol. As he drank his second beer, he realized that he no longer felt any residual anger from this afternoon, and that he no longer felt the overwhelming need to get drunk. Instead, he could actually enjoy the evening, and maybe get pleasantly buzzed. Doug was obviously going for a much higher level of intoxication, for lined up on the bar were three empty shot glasses, which formerly had contained tequila.

Many beers, a couple more shots of tequila, and two rounds of pool later, they were back at the bar. Jack sat there, watching Doug talking to two guys from Boston. From his slow, deliberate speech, it was obvious to Jack that Doug was pretty drunk. Tonight he had seen a completely new side of Pacey's older brother. While Doug often appeared to be pretty serious and even a bit stuffy, it was obvious from tonight that he was a kind man, who could be funny when he just took the opportunity to relax a bit. It was after midnight, and Doug was getting into a fairly heated discussion with the two guys on the merits of the designated hitter in baseball. While Doug had willingly gone along with the plan to get drunk together, Jack didn't think that getting into a bar fight was part of that plan. In addition, he felt very protective of Doug, who so obviously had needed a night to cut loose a little, but had so little experience actually doing so. Jack placed a hand on Doug's shoulder, trying not to notice the firm muscles that were hidden beneath Doug's shirt. "Doug, do you mind if we get out of here? I'm really tired."

Doug looked up in surprise. "Sure. No problem." He stood up and pulled on his jacket, only slightly unsteady on his feet. They walked out of O'Malley's into the cold night air, which had the effect of sobering both men up slightly. The street was nearly deserted as they walked in silence back to Jack's place.

When Jack returned from brushing his teeth, he found Doug stretched out on the couch, his eyes closed. Jack stood in the doorway for a minute watching the sheriff sleep. He walked over and grabbed the afghan from the back of the couch and spread it across Doug. He was about to turn away when Doug's eyes opened.

"Jack?" he whispered.

"Yes, Doug," he answered softly.

"I am so tired of being lonely." His voice was sad, and again, Jack could see the vulnerability that he had first glimpsed earlier that day.

Jack could only stand there and watch as Doug's eyes closed once again, and his breathing changed to that of deep sleep, "I know," he whispered. Unable to stop himself, he reached down to brush back a lock of hair from Doug's forehead. "Good night Doug. Sleep well."

The next morning Jack walked into the living room, and found Doug still on the sofa, his arm thrown over his eyes. "Are you awake?" Jack whispered.

"Yeah," Doug groaned, "now I remember why I decided never to drink that much anymore."

"I brought you some aspirin," he said, handing them to Doug, whose eyes were still closed. "Here's some water."

Doug took the proffered water gratefully, swallowing the pills and then struggled to sit up despite the pounding headache.

"In college I found the best cure for a bad hangover was pancakes. How about we head over to the Ice House?" Jack suggested.

Doug managed a weak grin. "OK, and hopefully Pacey won't give me too much grief."

Jack smiled back. "If necessary, I'll run interference for you."

And so they headed off to the Ice House for the curative properties of hangover pancakes. Nothing was said about the conversation from the previous night.


	5. On the Beach

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone that reviewed. I really appreciate it. I hope more of you review in the future. I must admit that I was a little sad that so few people reviewed my last chapter. I am sorry that this chapter has been so long in coming. For some reason, this one has been really hard to write (and became very long as well). Hope the length makes up for the long wait! The good news is that the next few chapters have been started, so the time between chapters will be shorter. Sam Cdn – you finally get to find out what happened in NY!

Thanks to ML for reading this before it was posted. There are many less typos thanks to her.

On the Beach

It was around four o'clock in the afternoon when Doug noticed a lone figure sitting on the beach. It was the first week in October, and the weather had grown progressively cooler, so the beach was almost empty. It was just one of the many details that he routinely noted and filed away in the back of his brain. Two hours later, he was heading home, when some instinct prompted him to drive by the beach again. The lone figure was still sitting there, and upon closer inspection, the person looked vaguely familiar. He got out of his patrol vehicle and walked across the sand. When he got closer, he saw that the man was Jack. He continued walking until he was standing beside him.

Jack did not appear to notice his presence, so finally he cleared his throat and asked, "Jack, is everything alright?"

Jack shook his head, no. Doug sat down next to Jack, seemingly unconcerned about the effect of the sand on his uniform. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. Jack didn't answer. "I know that we don't know each other all that well, but I'm a good listener."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Jack remembered the words that Doug had spoken a week ago, that night when they had gone drinking together. _I am so tired of being lonely_. Maybe Doug is someone who would understand. He swallowed and then began to speak. "Jason called today, and immediately I was back to being the person I was when I left New York. I have tried so hard this last month to get back to being me, and with one phone call, it was all gone."

"Who's Jason?" Doug asked.

"My boyfriend," Jack replied. "Well, ex-boyfriend."

"What happened?" Doug asked.

"The short version is that things ended badly, and I escaped to Capeside."

"I've got plenty of time for the long version, if you think talking about it will help," Doug offered.

Jack sighed, and began to speak, "I met him in February when I went to a birthday party for a co-worker. I'd never seen him before, and the first thing I noticed about him was his voice. When he talked, it was like everyone was magnetically drawn to him. He was really smart and funny, and incredibly handsome. With his blond hair and green eyes, he could have easily been a model for Abercrombie and Fitch, but instead all of that gorgeousness was wasted on an architect.

"It was a large party, and I really didn't know many people there. I guess most of the faculty had other commitments that night or something. I was hanging out talking with this complete stranger when he came over and introduced himself. I couldn't believe that this amazing guy was flirting with me. We ditched the rest of the party and ended up in a coffee shop a block down the street. We talked for hours until they finally kicked us out when they closed at 2 AM.

"The next week we spent almost every free minute together. We'd talk for hours about everything—politics, art – we even liked most of the same bands. And every night, we'd end up back at his place. The sex was amazing; he had amazing equipment and knew exactly what to do with it." Suddenly Jack seemed to remember whom he was talking to. He looked over at Doug, expecting the look of revulsion that usually resulted from any discussion of non-heterosexual sex, yet in Doug's eyes he only saw kindness. "Sorry." Doug shrugged, silently indicating that Jack should continue.

"I moved into his apartment exactly two weeks after I met him. Now it sounds pretty stupid, but at the time it felt so very right. It seemed like it was inevitable, and it was such a pain wandering home every morning before work.

"The first weekend after I moved in, we had Jen and her boyfriend, David, over for dinner. I was so nervous, though there was no reason to worry. Everyone loved Jason, and Jen was no different. It was such a perfect evening; I never would have predicted that both of our relationships would implode less than six months later."

Jack paused, trying to gather his thoughts to explain the next few months, a story he had only told his father, and even then, only the bare minimum of details. He sighed, and then continued, "For the first month or so, everything was great. Every day, I looked forward to coming home to him, spending time together. Watching TV, talking. We also went out a lot of evenings as well, which was a little bit of a change for me. It was fun trying new places to eat and spending the rest of the night at various gay bars and clubs of New York City, but eventually I couldn't keep up the pace. As a teacher, I spend a lot of time prepping for classes, and there always seems to be a pile of essays to be read. I always intended to do stuff after we got back, but then we would end up in bed. Eventually it reached a point where my work started to suffer. Just to survive, I started to stay in a few nights a week, and Jason went out alone. He said he understood, but I still felt like I was letting him down. Things got a little better for a while. I was doing an OK but not great job at work, and Jason seemed fairly content. And then he found out I had signed up to teach summer school. This wasn't anything new—the only way to pay the rent in New York on a teacher's salary was to work summers. I have ever since I got my first teaching job.

"We had this huge fight and in the end I felt even more guilty than before. He asked me why I could never compromise for the sake of our relationship. I felt so selfish, and as a result, I tried even harder to make it work. I pulled back from everything. I knew I was doing a lousy job at teaching, and I hardly ever saw my friends, even Jen, my best friend. I just wanted our relationship to work, and I thought that if I tried hard enough, it would.

"When we'd go out, everyone would tell me how lucky I was to be going out with someone so handsome and successful and charming. Everyone saw us as the perfect couple, but everything just felt wrong on the inside. I was just too tired from trying to spread myself too thin, but I thought it was worth it. Even the sex wasn't very good anymore, but I kept hoping things would get better. I felt like a fraud.

"It was the beginning of August, and we had been planning a perfect evening. Dinner at our favorite restaurant and then meeting some of his friends at The Metro to party all night. We were celebrating the end of summer school, and being together for six months. About an hour before we were about to leave for dinner, Jen called. She was crying so hard that I could hardly tell who was on the phone. We cancelled our reservation and decided to meet up at the club later on that evening. We were both a little disappointed, but I knew I couldn't go to dinner without finding out what was wrong with Jen. I caught a cab and was at her place in about twenty minutes. For a long time, all she could do was cry. Eventually she calmed down enough to tell me what was wrong.

"That morning had been her sixteen week checkup, and they were going to do a sonogram. David was supposed to meet her there. He never showed up, and wasn't answering his phone. David was a stockbroker, so it wasn't completely unusual for his cell to be turned off when he was in a meeting, but he wasn't the type to miss something really important. After a few hours of worrying, she finally tracked down his work phone number. By then it was after 5 PM on a Friday, so no one was around. She was transferred to his voice mail, and there was a message saying he no longer worked at the firm and referred clients to another associate.

"She went to his apartment and the door was standing open. Inside, the place was completely empty. The manager happened to be in there. From him, she learned that David had given notice a month before, and the movers had come the day before. David hadn't even left a forwarding address to get his damage deposit back. It was like the man had completely dropped off the face of the earth. Somehow she managed to hold it together long enough to make it home and call me.

"We talked for a couple of hours and I finally got her to eat something. Once everything was under control, I went directly to The Metro to meet up with Jason. It was only 10 PM, which was pretty early for Jason and his friends. The place was pretty crowded, and it took me a while to find him. He was on the dance floor with some guy who looked like he wasn't even eighteen. It wasn't unusual to see him dancing; it was just another thing that he did really well. Guys were always flirting with him, but as I watched him and the kid together, I realized that the body language was all wrong. Someone was being persued, but it sure as hell wasn't the kid doing the chasing.

"I couldn't move. It was if my feet were cemented to the ground. I watched as they headed off to the back rooms." Jack looked up at Doug, suddenly aware of his audience for the first time in quite a while. His smile was sarcastic, "in case you are wondering, no one goes to the back rooms for a nice conversation, if you get what I mean." When Doug nodded, Jack continued, "it's strange. I didn't confront him, or try to stop him. I just watched him leave. As I stood there in the middle of the dance floor, my first instinct was to run after Jason and apologize for not being there that evening. Can you imagine? He's the one cheating, but somehow I felt like it was all my fault. I think that the only thing that kept me from running after him was that I didn't want to have the argument in front of his friends. I just left.

"When I got back to our apartment, I started packing my stuff. I couldn't continue to stay there, being half of a couple that was only perfect on the outside. I had been packing for an hour before I realized that I had no place to go, and no way to get my stuff there, even if I did. Why the hell had I purchased a convertible with a trunk barely big enough to hold a suitcase? There was no way I could call Jen, who had barely survived the defection of David, and I was too embarrassed to have any of my other friends witness my humiliation. In the end, I called my father. It was the middle of the night in London, but he didn't mind. I gave him the basic details, and then it was the most amazing thing. He was silent for a bit, and then all he said was 'keep packing. I'll take care of everything.' It was perfect, exactly what I needed: unconditional love and support. An hour later, he called back. At 8 AM the next morning, a truck would show up, and everything that didn't fit in my car would be taken and put in storage. He had also made a reservation for me at a hotel. I have no idea what kind of strings he had to pull, or how he managed to take care of everything even though he was on the other side of the world, but he did it.

"I was still packing when Jason came home at 2 AM. He was furious that I hadn't shown up at the club. I yelled back that he didn't need me when he was screwing some underage twink in the back room. We yelled at each other for a while longer, before he went to bed, saying that he was tired and we should discuss it in the morning after we had calmed down. We never did have that conversation because I was gone before he woke up. Maybe that's why it is tempting to fall back into the same old patterns of our relationship when Jason called this afternoon. I barely stopped myself from apologizing for how it all ended. He even asked me to consider coming back to New York. Thank God for an iron clad contract with Capeside High, or I might have considered it. Can you imagine?" Jack sighed, and Doug sat there, waiting for him to continue.

"Maybe it would have been better to finish the argument before I left New York. Maybe I wouldn't be so screwed up now if I had just gotten some sort of closure."

For the first time in quite a while, Doug spoke. "Closure. God, I hate that word."

Jack was surprised at the bitterness in Doug's voice. "Why?"

"When Susan dumped me, as part of 'getting closure' she felt the need to give me a list of everything wrong with me." Doug closed his eyes, and could hear the words she had thrown at him. _Boring. Morose. Obsessed with work._ He opened his eyes, forcing himself to ignore the voice continuing in his head. "Maybe she was right. Since then, I seem to have become the person she said I was." He sighed. "I guess she needed to justify to herself why she wanted to dump me, but what about me? Maybe it would have been better for her to just walk away after telling me she didn't love me. Maybe things would have been different." He paused, and when he spoke again, Jack could barely hear him. "Maybe I would be different."

Doug was looking across the water, so Jack could not see into his eyes. If he could, Jack was convinced that he could have seen down into Doug's soul. "When did this happen?" he asked.

And just as suddenly, it was as if a door had slammed, and Doug pulled himself back into the present. "Just after I got back from the academy. A long time ago." He sighed. "Closure. Do you think it would have worked? Forgive me if I am completely out of line here, but it seems that what you really needed from Jason was for him to acknowledge how much you had given up for your relationship, and I just don't see him giving you that. Isn't that the whole reason why things went so badly in the first place?"

"I guess. Maybe," Jack conceded, "but sometimes I wish I had really told him how I felt, for the first time."

"Maybe, but sometimes it's really hard to know where to stop, so that later you don't feel the need to apologize for the things you said. Because then the whole 'final conversation' just starts up again. Sometimes, I think that when a relationship is that toxic, it may be best to just walk away, a clean break."

Jack considered for a minute. "It makes sense, but it just seems so backwards. What about trying to be friends with your ex?"

"I guess it depends on whether you think your ex will make a good friend. Most of the time, a relationship fails for all of the same reasons why you wouldn't want to be friends with that person, and it's pretty dumb to try and live up to an unrealistic ideal."

Jack was surprised at how insightful Doug's advice was, and Jack knew that it would be a long time before he could process the many thoughts running through his head. They sat on the beach in silence for quite a while, before Doug finally suggested that they head back to the parking lot, as October was not the ideal time of year for hanging out at the beach.

As they were walking across the sand, Doug suddenly had an idea. Before he could analyze the impulse or change his mind, he made a suggestion, "hey, I just remembered that Pacey's coming over for dinner tonight. Why don't you join us?"

"I wouldn't want to intrude…"

"It's not an intrusion; it's only Monday," Doug explained.

"What's so special about Monday?" Jack asked, completely mystified.

Doug laughed, "Pacey never told you? Well, it's usually the slowest day of the week at the restaurant, so as long as there's nothing unusual happening, he doesn't go in on Monday night. If he has no other plans, he comes over and I cook dinner."

"Isn't that a little backwards? Shouldn't he be the one doing the cooking?"

"Nah. He needs a break from it occasionally. Plus, the whole Monday tradition started four years ago when he decided to force me to learn how to cook."

"So what's on tonight's menu?"

"Chicken Tikka Masala with basmati rice and chick-peas. The recipes I found sound great."

Jack was a little worried, "should I be concerned that you're trying something you've never cooked before?"

Doug grinned. "Don't worry. It's been months since Pacey has had to bail me out of culinary disaster." He turned to look at Jack. "So are your tastebuds up for an adventure?"

"Sure. Why not? Just tell me where and when. Can I bring anything?"

"Only if you want something to drink other than beer or diet coke. I've got everything else covered." He pulled out a notebook and scribbled his address on it and handed it over. "Show up here any time before 7:30 PM."

"Sure. I'll see you soon." They were now back at the parking lot. Doug watched as Jack got into his convertible and drove away. He savored the feeling of anticipation for a moment, before it was time to head home to change and starting cooking.

That night was the first of many Monday nights that Doug, Jack, and Pacey would spend together in Doug's somewhat cramped kitchen. Eventually, Doug and Jack began to hang out occasionally, even without Pacey's presence. Upon learning that they both jogged to keep in shape, they began running together, whenever their work schedules would permit. Jack even convinced Doug to go to several Capeside High football games. Even the fact that the Minutemen consistently lost couldn't dampen Doug's newfound happiness. Gradually, other people began to notice the difference in him, even though they did not know the source of that happiness. At work, Doug was much more laid-back, occasionally spending time laughing and joking with his co-workers. Pacey, more perceptive than most people would give him credit for, noticed that small amounts of disorder were allowed to creep into Doug's apartment: the occasional dish left in the sink or the stack of CDs left unalphabetized.

TBC


	6. Doug's Birthday

disclaimer: Don't own nothing. Don't sue. The cookbook in this chapter, as well as the recipe, are my creation, and not based on any cookbook as far as I know.

Author's note: Thank you to everyone that reviewed. It really made me feel better. Keep those reviews coming, which will hopefully inspire me to keep the chapters coming at a good rate. I bet you are all surprised to see an update so soon, given my past history. I am going to try and be better this summer.

Chapter 6: Doug's Birthday

Doug looked at the book lying on the desk. It was amazing how depressing it was for a present that was so thoughtful. He opened it to look at the message inscribed on the flyleaf. "To my favorite brother: In the past few years, you have become a pretty good cook, but I thought you might want to take it to the next level. Try the mango salmon (page 258). The sauce looks amazing. Hope you enjoy it and happy cooking. Love Pacey".

He tossed the cookbook back on his desk, and looked at the title that was written in bold red lettering across the cover: Cooking for One. It seemed that even his brother thought that there was no chance that he would ever find someone. Destined to be alone. Damn.

Maybe it was a logical conclusion. His last date was – he had to think pretty hard to remember – over three years ago. Two dates with a woman named Allison. In the last five years, he had been on a total of maybe eight dates. But still, with one birthday present, he felt like he was doomed to being alone. Just because he had not been successful in finding the right person, did that mean that special someone for him didn't exist?

Doug sighed and turned back to the mountain of paperwork on his desk. Paperwork was never the best part of his job, but on his birthday, it seemed especially depressing. He pulled out the form that he had been working on. Suddenly, Holly stepped into the office. "Sheriff, there is someone here to see you."

He looked up in surprise, for he wasn't expecting anyone. Jack poked his head into the office. "Happy

Birthday Doug!" In his hand was a dilapidated picnic basket. "How's the birthday going so far?" he asked.

"Fine," he lied. "I had breakfast with Pacey. He gave me a cookbook," Doug said, gesturing toward the book that was perched on top of one of the piles on his desk.

Jack walked over and picked it up, reading the cover. "Cooking For One. Ouch. That seems kind of depressing."

Even though Doug had just been thinking the same thing, he felt the need to defend Pacey's gift. "It's not too bad. It looks like it has some good recipes in it."

Even though he tried to sound upbeat, it didn't fool the other man. Jack tried to change the subject, "so why didn't you have a party to celebrate your thirty-fifth birthday? I mean, thirty-five is a big deal."

Doug looked up at Jack unable to explain the hopelessness that had characterized his thirty-fifth birthday. How could he explain how this date marked the end of his dreams? How he had looked into the future and had expected to be married with a couple of kids by now. Even five years ago, it still had seemed as if there would be enough time for those dreams to come true. He sighed. There was no reason to explain his real rationale for avoiding his birthday. "Thanksgiving is only two weeks away and too much family togetherness in the Witter family is often a bad thing." Luckily Jack seemed content with his explanation.

Doug looked at the object in Jack's hand. "So what's in the basket?"

Jack set the picnic basket on the desk and opened it with a flourish. "Chipped beef on toast." He began laying the food out on the desk. "When Pacey found out the menu, he refused to participate, even though he did donate a birthday cake," Jack explained, pulling a Death by Chocolate Cake out of the basket.

"How did you know I liked chipped beef?"

"Don't you remember Pacey's birthday party…"

"When mom made my favorite and thought it was Pacey's favorite," Doug finished, laughing. "I can't believe you remembered that!"

"It was quite a memorable evening, believe me. I think all the details are permanently etched in my mind."

"So, are you going to tell me that you actually cooked something? Is it edible?" Doug asked with mock concern, having witnessed firsthand Jack's ineptitude in the kitchen.

"It wasn't hard. The store had frozen creamed beef, so all I had to do was heat it up." As Doug's raised eyebrow, he confessed, "OK, so I burned the first batch, but this is fine. Don't worry, I tasted it." And then they were both laughing.

As they ate in silence, Jack tried to formulate the question that had been bothering him all day. "In all the times we have eaten together, only once have I seen you eat beef. Usually it's chicken, or fish, or even completely vegetarian. Are you just pretending to like chipped beef to humor me?"

Doug was touched by the worry in Jack's eyes. "I do like chipped beef, but I don't let myself have it too often because of the calories." Doug paused for a minute. "I need to make a confession. Do you know why my mother thinks that chipped beef on toast is my favorite meal?" When Jack shook his head, Doug answered, "because it's the only thing she can make without screwing it up!"

Suddenly they were both laughing. Eventually they settled down and finished the meal. Doug chewed thoughtfully, and then declared, "not bad. Just like mom's," and then they were laughing again.

When they had finally consumed all of the food in the picnic basket, they both leaned back in lazy contentment.

"Hey, are you up for dinner tonight?" Doug asked. "I've been thinking of trying," he paused, flipping through the pages of the cookbook until he found what he was looking for, "Salmon with Mango Sauce."

"Sure, but isn't it called 'Cooking for One'? I'm assuming that you plan on eating as well."

Doug laughed, "Of course I plan on eating. There's no rule that say that the recipe can't be doubled to make food for two, is there?"

Jack grabbed the book out of Doug's hands and pretended to look for the non-existent rule. "Damn. I'm sure I saw it in here somewhere." He continued to search before tossing the cookbook down in mock defeat. "I guess it's allowed. Same time, same place?"

"Better make it a half hour later. I have to stop at the store on the way home and pick up supplies."

Jack nodded, and began picking up the remains of lunch. "I'll see you tonight, then."

As Doug watched Jack walk out of his office, he realized that the specter of Birthday's Past had abandoned him, and that his thirty-fifth birthday no longer felt like the confirmation of lost dreams. He smiled and reached for a notepad, where he began to write out his shopping list.

salmon

2 mangos

Cajun spice mixture

coriander

….

Author's note: Here's the recipe, if anyone is interested.

Baked Cajun Salmon with Mango Sauce

Servings: 3-4

1 lb Salmon

Olive Oil

Cajun spice mixture

cooking spray

Sauce:

2 ripe mangos, pureed

juice of 2 limes

4 tsp coriander

pinch of celery salt

Spray baking pan with cooking spray. Brush salmon with olive oil. Sprinkle with Cajun spice mixture and salt, to taste. Bake uncovered 15-18 minutes at 450 degrees until salmon flakes easily with a fork.

For sauce: combine ingredients and serve cold with the hot salmon. Sauce can be prepared in advance.


	7. Thanksgiving

Disclaimer: Don't own nothing. Don't sue.

Author's note: Sorry that this took so long. Blame ML, best friend and proof reader, who has had more of a life than usual, but is now forgiven. Blame can also be given to Hurricane/Tropical Storm/Tropical Depression Ernesto, that interrupted normal life for a few days here in FL. Thank goodness for weather that turned out to be fairly boring.

Thanksgiving

It was almost 7:45 PM when Jack managed to get up off the couch. He had returned from the Leery's around 6:30 and for the last hour, he had lain in happy contentment, too full to move. The food had been incredible, and he was grateful to have the chance to see Dawson again, even though his friend was only in town for a few hours.

Thanksgiving is for families, and a week ago Jack had felt a bit depressed that his own family was so far away. Andie was slated to be on call all weekend, and Jen and Grams were flying to Paris to visit Jen's mother. In the end, they had finally decided that they would all spend Christmas together in New York. Even his father was planning on flying in to stay for a few days.

It had been a great Thanksgiving so far. His father had called this morning and they had talked for over an hour. Almost as soon as they had hung up, Jen and Grams had called. Dinner at the Leery's had been wonderful, with more food than four adults and one child could possibly consume, and Dawson and Jack had watched with amusement the interaction between Gail and Steve. They may have thought they were being discrete, but it was obvious that their relationship was pretty serious; they weren't fooling anyone. The best part of the day had occurred during dessert when Jack's cell phone rang. It was Andie, who had found a few minutes between patients to call.

Jack checked his watch: 5 minutes until kickoff. He turned on the TV and peered out the window. No Doug, which was unusual. Doug was almost pathologically punctual. He knew that Doug hadn't forgotten because he had mentioned getting together to watch the game only that morning, as they finished up their morning jog down the beach. Doug claimed that football was a good excuse to escape the circus that was the Witter household when all of the family came to visit.

The game started; still no Doug. After twenty minutes, Jack found he couldn't sit back and enjoy football. He dialed Doug's phone number: no answer. After leaving a message, he tried Doug's cell—again, no answer. He couldn't escape the feeling that something was terribly wrong, and he grabbed his keys and headed out to his car.

As he approached Doug's apartment, the first thing he noticed was Doug's patrol vehicle parked in its usual place. Jack parked right behind the SUV, and then jogged up the steps and rang the doorbell.

After waiting a sufficient time, he was about to walk away when he decided to try the doorknob. To his complete surprise, it turned in his hand. That was weird, seeing how Doug always locked his door when he wasn't home.

Feeling more than slightly apprehensive, he entered Doug's apartment. The first thing he noticed was a set of keys and Doug's cell phone on the counter, but other than that, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. "Doug? Are you here?" he called out as he walked through the living room into Doug's bedroom. He was about to turn around to leave, when he decided to continue on into the bathroom.

When he entered the room, the scene that met his eyes was such a contrast to the orderliness of the rest of the apartment that he could only stand in shock for a few seconds. The trail of vomit began at the door and led to the toilet, and curled up on the tile floor was Doug, who was looking pale and clearly rather ill. Trying not to gag at the stench, Jack knelt down beside Doug. "Doug? Can you hear me?" At his words, Doug opened his eyes and nodded almost imperceptibly.

"How long have you been like this?" he asked.

"Couple of hours, maybe longer." Doug spoke slowly and softly, in hopes that if he could somehow not move a muscle, the nausea could be held at bay.

Jack looked down at the figure on the ground, completely at a loss as to how to proceed. The decision was made for him when Doug began to struggle to get off the floor. Instinctively Jack reached down to grab Doug's shoulders, so that he was partially supporting Doug's weight. When Doug was finished retching into the toilet, Jack helped him so that he was sitting, propped up against the bathroom cabinet.

"Doug, staying in here can't be helping things. Maybe you'd feel better if we got you cleaned up and in bed," he suggested. "Maybe I should call Pacey."

Doug shook his head, unwilling for someone else to see him completely humiliated and pathetic.

Jack sighed. "Do you trust me?" he asked. He waited for Doug's affirmative nod before he continued, in as business-like manner as possible, "well, then. Let's get you out of these clothes and cleaned up." He reached down and began undoing the cuffs of Doug's shirt.

When the buttons on the sleeves were free, Doug began fumbling with the buttons at his collar, trying to do something for himself. Jack watched him struggle for a bit, before he reached up to do it himself. "Here, allow me." Before he began undoing the buttons he looked up to make sure that Doug was OK with this. Either Doug trusted him completely, or was too ill to really care, because he made no objection. In no time Doug's shirt and t-shirt were laying in a heap on the floor. Damn he looks good without his shirt. The thought crossed Jack's mind before he could stop it. Damnit Jack, he trusts you! How could you be checking him out at a time like this, yet the other half of his brain rationalized, how could you not take notice? He leaned down to remove Doug's shoes and socks.

Trying to project an air of calm he was far from feeling, he said, "OK Doug. Let's get you standing so we can get your pants off." Somehow he managed to get Doug up off the floor and leaning against the sink. Soon enough, Doug's pants had joined the growing pile of clothes on the tile floor, and Doug was clad only in his boxers. Even after such a short time Doug was beginning to sway alarmingly, and Jack quickly maneuvered him so he was sitting on the toilet, somewhat propped against the nearby counter.

For the first time Jack took notice of his surroundings. Unlike most of Capeside, Doug's apartment building had been built fairly recently, probably sometime during the nineties. As a result, the bathroom was only equipped with a shower stall. Shit! There's no way Doug can be in there by himself. What if he falls and cracks his head open? Damn, damn, damn. Now what? Coming to a decision, Jack removed his keys and his wallet from his pocket and tossed them on the counter. A moment later they were joined by his watch and cell phone. He removed his shoes and socks, and then his shirt joined the pile of clothing on the floor. He hesitated, considering whether he should remove his jeans before he decided that the additional layer of clothing was probably crucial to maintaining his sanity during the coming ordeal.

He turned on the water in the shower, and then there was no delaying the inevitable. "OK Doug. Time to get you cleaned up." Doug nodded and allowed Jack to help him stand up and step over the ledge to enter the shower stall. He noticed that Doug looked mildly surprised when Jack stepped in behind him, but didn't say anything.

Jack was beginning to think that his presence was completely unnecessary when Doug suddenly began to sway sideways. Jack grabbed his shoulders and righted him before Doug could fall over. After the second time it happened, Jack wrapped his arm around Doug's chest, while using his free hand to scrub at the vomit that had dried in Doug's hair. Thank God Doug was so out of it, that he appeared to not notice the effect their closeness was having on Jack's body. Jack tried to concentrate on the task at hand, mentally cursing his traitorous mind and body.

When Doug was reasonably clean, Jack turned off the water and grabbed the large blue towel hanging on the rack. He dried off his friend, trying to ignore the sodden boxers that clung to Doug's body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. He wrapped the towel around Doug's waist, and pulling Doug's arm over his shoulders for support, half-carried, half-dragged his friend into to the bedroom, where he deposited him on the bed. He rummaged through the drawers until he found a pair of sweatpants and a pair of boxers. He wrapped the towel around Doug's waist a little tighter, and the reached up under the towel to remove the sodden pair of underwear, and then helped Doug into a dry pair of boxers and the sweatpants. When this somewhat delicate procedure had been accomplished, Jack noticed that Doug was looking even worse than when he had first discovered him on the bathroom floor. Doug was looking extremely pale and his whole body was shaking, but Jack couldn't tell whether it was from fever or exhaustion, or a combination of both. He helped Doug slide between the covers and headed off to deal with the disaster that was the bathroom. He found a mop in the broom closet and a cleaner that contained bleach. He threw the pile of clothes into the washing machine and then went back into the bedroom to grab another pair of sweatpants and a clean t-shirt for himself. He went into the newly sanitized bathroom to change. After checking on Doug, he threw his soggy jeans into the washer.

Doug was still pale, but no longer shaking. Jack sat on the side of the bed. "Hey Doug? How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?" he asked.

"Water," Doug croaked. He looked up at Jack. "Hey, you're wearing my clothes."

Jack laughed. "I hope you don't mind, mine were a bit wet."

"No problem," Doug mumbled. "They look better on you anyway."

Jack looked down at the Capeside Sheriff's t-shirt he was wearing, silently disagreeing, given that Doug looked incredibly sexy in anything he wore. Jesus, where did that thought come from? Shaking his head, he headed into the kitchen for a bottle of water.

When he returned, he saw that Doug was sitting partially upright in the bed, and when Jack handed him the water, he saw that Doug's hands were steady. He took a cautious sip, and was about to take another when his expression became a bit panicked. "Oh shit! I'm gonna—" He couldn't even finish the sentence before we vomited into the trashcan Jack had immediately grabbed and shoved toward him. When he had finished, Jack helped him lay back in the bed. Instinctively, he reached out to brush Doug's hair from his forehead. Jesus, he's burning up. Trying to keep the panic out of his voice, he suggested, "why don't you rest for a bit." Doug nodded, and closed his eyes obediently.

Jack walked out to the living room, after retrieving his cell phone from the bathroom. He dialed a familiar number, and sighed when a familiar voice answered.

"Hey Jack, I didn't expect to hear from you again today. You're lucky you caught me between cases."

Andie was drawing breath to continue when Jack interrupted her. "This isn't a social call. I've got a friend here. He's really sick. He's throwing up and his fever's really high. I don't know what to do."

Immediately she switched into doctor mode. "How high is his temp?"

"I don't know! I can't find a thermometer, but he feels really hot," Jack replied.

"First off, you need to give him something to get the fever down. Tylenol or ibuprofen."

"I can't!" Jack replied, feeling helpless. "He isn't even keeping water down, let alone pills."

Andie was silent for a few minutes, considering. "How long has he been ill?" she asked.

"Probably four or five hours, could be longer" Jack guessed. "I've only been here an hour and a half."

Andie's reply was immediate. "Jack, you have to get him to a doctor. It could be the flu, but it could also be food poisoning. You don't want to mess around with a fever like that, and he could be dehydrated as well."

"OK. Thanks, Andie." He hung up the phone, and was walking back to the bedroom before he realized he hadn't even told her who was ill. Doug was lying in the same position Jack had left him in, curled into a tight ball under the covers. He sat down on the edge of the bed, trying not to jostle Doug. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Doug opened one eyelid and replied, "don't ask."

Jack decided not to beat around the bush. "You're not getting any better, and I think your fever is getting worse. We need to get you to a doctor, but the only place open at this time on Thanksgiving is the emergency room."

Doug sighed, and then accepted the inevitable. "OK, but no ambulance."

Jack was relieved that Doug had agreed without a fight. "I'll drive, but you'll have to sit in the passenger seat; my car doesn't have a back seat." For the second time in his life, Jack truly regretted his choice of transportation.

"No, Jack. I feel even worse sitting up. Take my car."

"Won't I get in trouble for driving the Sheriff's personal patrol vehicle?" Jack asked.

"Only if you've put the Sheriff out of his misery and are using his vehicle to dispose of the body." The right side of Doug's mouth curled up in a credible imitation of a smile.

Jack smiled in relief. "OK, just lay there while I get everything ready." He walked out to the kitchen and found Doug's keys and went to unlock to car. He grabbed a coat out of the closet, and headed back into the bedroom.

By some miracle, they made it out to the car and all the way to the hospital without incident, but then their luck ran out. They were almost to the emergency room door when Doug fell to his knees and began retching again. When he was through, he glanced down at his newly soiled clothing and sighed, "can someone please just shoot me now?"

Jack reached down to help him up, trying to find something to say to relieve the other man's misery. "Hey, given its location, I'm sure that's not the first time this bush has been yaked upon. Just look at how small it is compared to the others." His attempt at humor was rewarded with a small smile from Doug.

Miraculously, the ER was fairly empty and Doug was taken back almost immediately. As the nurse led him away, Jack promised to return with clean clothing. On the way back to Doug's apartment, Jack felt even more uncomfortable, convinced that at any minute, he would be pulled over and asked what the hell he was doing driving Doug's patrol vehicle. At Doug's apartment, he grabbed another change of clothing, and then checked the refrigerator. As he had suspected, there was nothing appropriate for someone with stomach problems. He was driving back to the hospital when he saw Pacey's Explorer in front of the Icehouse. He maneuvered the patrol vehicle behind it, and was getting out when he saw Pacey coming out of the restaurant, a pile of papers in his hand.

"Hey Jack! Happy Thanksgiving!" he called, before he noticed the vehicle. "Why are you driving Douggie's car?"

"It's a long story, but the short version is that I just took Doug to the ER because he has a fever and can't stop throwing up."

"Jesus! Is he OK? What did they say?" Pacey asked, very alarmed.

"I don't know," Jack replied. "I ran back to pick up fresh clothing. Andie says they'll probably give him IV fluids and something to get the fever down."

Pacey nodded. "What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"Eventually he'll need to try and eat something, and Thanksgiving leftovers are not exactly the best thing for a queasy stomach," Jack suggested.

Pacey laughed, "especially if they came from the Witter household! I'm sure I can come up with something better, maybe Jell-O and chicken broth. Why don't you get back to the hospital and leave the food to me. Call me when you hear anything."

Jack nodded and climbed back into the SUV, relieved that there was one less detail to take care of. When he returned to the hospital, a nurse escorted him back to the treatment room where Doug was laying on a gurney. He was in a hospital gown with a paper sheet draped over his legs. An IV was dripping into his arm, and he was hunched over, throwing up into a basin held by a nurse in pink scrubs. Jack noticed that

Doug looked pretty miserable. When Doug was lying down again, Jack moved into the room. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked hopefully.

"A little. I think the Tylenol is helping." Doug tried to look upbeat.

"How'd they manage to give you Tylenol when you're still throwing up?" Jack asked.

He could have sworn that Doug blushed, and the nurse seemed to be trying not to smile. "Don't ask. Believe me, you really don't want to know."

Doug looked so embarrassed that Jack quickly tried to change the subject. "So what's the prognosis?"

"They're letting me go once the IV is finished. They think it's the flu. They assure me that eventually I'll stop throwing up once it has run its course. I'm not sure I believe them." Doug smiled. "So who won the game?"

Jack grinned. "I have no idea. I was too afraid to turn on the radio in your car. I didn't want to turn on the siren or mess up something."

Doug started to laugh, but quickly stopped, clutching his abdomen. "Oh God, don't make me laugh, it hurts too much!"

Jack excused himself, and went outside to call Pacey. When he returned the nurse was unhooking the IV. He turned his back as Doug changed into the new clothes. They drove to Doug's house without incident, and once there, Doug fell asleep almost immediately. Jack went out to the living room and turned on the TV with the volume turned down low.

Over the next few days, Doug stayed in bed convalescing. Jack and Pacey would each drop in several times a day to check on him. They knew he was finally getting better when he started to get irritated by their constant attention. A week after his trip to the emergency room, Doug returned to work. It probably wasn't the smartest idea, but he was sick of lying on the couch all day.

A few days later, he was finally feeling back to normal again.

Author's note part 2: To those of you that have weak stomachs, I would like to apologize profusely for this chapter. I am very very sorry. But hopefully in a chapter or two, you will a) forgive me and b) understand why this chapter just had to be here.


	8. Dreams Part 1

Disclaimer: Don't own nothing. Don't sue.

Author's note: Chapters 8 and 9 are meant to be read as one chapter. Maturity warning: this chapter is a little more graphic than others in this story. In my opinion, it is still well within the bounds of a T or PG-13 rating, but if you are a little unsure, then just skip to the next chapter. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story. I really appreciate it.

Chapter 8: Dreams

That night Doug had the first dream. When he awoke, he had no memory of the dream, only the feeling of panic that still lingered. Eventually his heart rate slowed, and he was able to fall back asleep.

The next night, the dream was more tangible. In it, he was wandering through his apartment, searching for someone or something. As he moved through his home, the rooms transformed into the rooms of the Witter household of his childhood, and then later the rooms of the dormitory he had stayed in during his time at the academy. Always, somewhere in the distance he could hear water running, and his anxiety grew as he continued to search for what was missing. He started to run, but the house turned into a maze where he never knew what was beyond each door. Again he awoke with his heart pounding, and he lay in the darkness, thinking about the places from his past.

The third night's dream was even more vivid. He was in the shower, and it was as if every nerve ending in his body was supercharged with electricity, so that he was hyper-aware of every drop of water passing over his skin. Somehow he knew that he was not alone in the shower; he could sense a presence behind him, even though there was no contact between their bodies. As he stood under the warm spray of water, he was unable to move, even to turn his head to ascertain the identity of the person behind him. The air around him seemed to shimmer as the other occupant moved closer. Doug awoke, his heart racing, excruciatingly aware of every place where the tangled sheet brushed against his bare flesh, and of his almost painful arousal. What the hell was wrong with him? It was as if he no longer had any control over his mind or body. Already the nights of near sleeplessness were beginning to affect his waking hours. Would he ever be able to sleep through the night again? He sighed and reached down to take care of his body's pressing need, but even with the physical release, sleep did not come immediately.


	9. Dreams Part 2

Chapter 9: Dreams (continued)

That night's dream was very different from the previous nights of that week. He was sitting on a beach with Jack, and the only sound was the waves crashing on the shore. He leaned over and kissed the younger man, but when he opened his eyes, Jack was gone, leaving a deserted stretch of sand. The sense of loss was almost a physical pain, making it hard to breathe. Doug awoke with a jerk. In that confusing moment between dreaming and wakefulness, it was as if his mouth still carried a memory of that kiss. He reached up to touch his lips, and found his cheeks were wet with tears.

After several nights of restless sleep and troubling dreams, he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. So tired that when the unwanted realization came, he had no defense against it—no denials, no ready excuses. For the first time he actually allowed himself to explore the thought. He stared up at the ceiling, forcing himself to examine all of the events of the last few months without the usual veil of self-delusion and denial. He lay there in the dark for a long time, thinking. With a sigh, he came to the inevitable conclusion. "I'm in love with Jack McPhee," he whispered.

The thought should have caused immediate panic, but in that moment, there was only peace. It was if he had spent a long time running, trying to escape, and someone had come along and told him that it was OK to slow down. He closed his eyes, and almost immediately fell into a deep and dreamless slumber.

He was still asleep when the phone rang the next morning. Without opening his eyes, he picked up the phone, bringing the receiver to his ear. "Hello" he mumbled, groggily.

"Doug? What happened? Are you all right?"

"Jack. Uhm… What time is it?" he asked, quickly coming to full consciousness.

"Fifteen minutes past when you were supposed to be here for our morning jog. I was worried about you."

Doug smiled, appreciating the concern he could hear in his friend's voice. Suddenly he felt emotionally fragile, afraid that if he saw his friend this morning, he would be as transparent as glass, and Jack would be able to see every thought written on his face. "I didn't sleep well last night and I'm really tired. Is it OK if we skip today?"

"Sure. No problem. You're sure you're OK?" Jack asked.

"Yeah. Nothing a little more sleep wouldn't fix," Doug lied. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Same time, same place" Jack agreed before hanging up.

Doug lay there, not sure he was up to facing anyone today. Making a decision, he picked up the phone again, dialing a familiar number. "Holly, I won't be coming in today. Call me if there is an emergency." He listened to the voice on the other end of the line. "No, I'll be in tomorrow." He listened to her motherly concern and advice before he cut her off. "I'll see you tomorrow, OK?"

He hung up the phone, feeling a bit guilty that he had let Holly believe that he wasn't feeling well. He just needed some time to sort out his feelings for Jack before facing the world.

He pulled on his oldest pair of sweatpants, and flopped down in his favorite chair. For several hours he sat there, trying to sort out the confused jumble of thoughts in this head.

Eventually he came to a decision. Yes, he had feelings for Jack that were more than just friendship. But that didn't mean anything had to change. Just because these feeling where there didn't mean that he had to act on them, right? Of course not! As long as he was careful, no one ever needed to know that his feelings for Jack went way beyond friendship. There was no reason for his life to change.


End file.
